


a rose

by ThisJoyAndI



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:06:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6145582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisJoyAndI/pseuds/ThisJoyAndI
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(by any other name)<br/>Petra, Rafael, and baby names. 'The only thing she is sure of is - their last name will be Solano.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	a rose

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously AU in that Petra and Raf have already chosen their daughters' names, but still. I just had to finish it.

Petra never thought, after that terrible late-term miscarriage and all those failed attempts at simply falling pregnant before that, that she’d ever safely deliver one baby, let alone two. That perhaps is the main reason why she only has the one name picked out, even though she had plenty of time between the all revealing ultrasound and the delivery room to look through the baby name books Jane had bestowed upon her and pick another, to be entirely prepared for when her daughters finally arrived. Still, between being arrested, Rafael thankfully bailing her out hours later, disassociating herself with her mother, with Milos, with anything that should have remained in her past, as well as trying to re-establish the Marbella as a viable hotel, she supposes her lack of preparedness is somewhat justified. Being pregnant with twins would be enough to exhaust any woman, but for the last few months Petra has been pregnant with twins, co-running a hotel and ensuring she doesn’t wind up incarcerated. She could sleep for weeks, but she knows sleep is going to be elusive for the next few months. 

Her children, her daughters, are born at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday, two weeks premature but wailing and healthy nonetheless. Petra weeps for joy, uncaring that she looks like a total mess, because she’s done it, she’s finally achieved the one thing she has longed to accomplish for so very long.  Rafael beams with pride next to her, his fingers tenderly caressing the cheek of the daughter he holds reverently in his arms, and for a moment Petra thinks that this is the happiest she has been in years. No matter how stupid it was that she took Raf’s last sample and inseminated herself, no matter how much she has grumbled about her weight gain, her morning sickness, her aches and pains, it has all been worth it. She has safely delivered not one but _two_ children, and although she knows it is going to be difficult, she has finally been given a chance to be a mother.

Hopefully she’s better than her own, although Petra doesn’t know how anyone could be worse. 

Rafael and her sit together on her hospital bed, each of them holding a baby, and it’s perfect. They may not be together, may not have tearfully professed their love to one another, but she’s seen the way Rafael looks at her, the way he is looking at her as of this exact moment. It’ll take time, but she’s willing to wait. Besides, the babies, their daughters, should come first anyway. If they’re going to be a proper family, she isn’t going to rush anything, not when their daughters could be hurt in the process. They deserve only the best, and Petra will do anything to ensure that for them.

Like she told Raf a week or so ago – she isn’t going to be his second choice, isn’t going to let him put Jane and Mateo above her and their daughters. If he wants to be with her, truly, then they’ll be together. If he doesn’t, well then, he’ll still be the babies’ father, the only person who really knows her.

The tranquil silence of her room is broken when a nurse peeks her head around the door, a clipboard in hand. She greets Petra a little too enthusiastically, obviously only just beginning her shift and having not spent the last ten or so hours in labour like Petra has. Raf has to stifle a laugh at her sarcastic responses, their youngest asleep in his arms, pressing a hand to her arm in an attempt to stop her from continuing with her retorts. Petra merely sighs, shifting their eldest into a more comfortable position, and tries her hardest to not roll her eyes as the nurse continues blabbering on.

Yes, they’ve had their hearing tests – tests which Petra, bedridden as she was, had demanded Rafael oversee, her heart pounding at the thought of the same thing that happened to Mateo happening to her daughters, especially since Rafael’s mother is still unable to be located. Yes, they’ve been weighed. Yes, they were premature (like all twins usually are, she wants to snap) but the doctors have checked them over profusely and said that they’re healthy as can be. Yes, they’ll be going back into the nursery soon, we just wanted to hold them for a little. Yes, I’m perfectly fine, just exhausted.

The one question Petra stumbles on though is – Have you picked out names yet?

Rafael looks at her, an eyebrow arched in question. For all her prior snark, Petra now cannot seemingly speak. Instead, she merely shakes her head, a brief no. The nurse offers a smile, and a “That’s fine, there’s plenty of time. No rush.”

When she finally leaves the room, Petra sinks back against the pillows, inhaling sharply. Her daughters are mere hours old, and yet she’s already failed at being their mother. She’s had over eight months to prepare for them, and yet here she is, still floundering at a basic task like picking out their names. She knows it isn’t a big deal, knows that she will eventually figure out what to call them, but still. She can’t keep differentiating between them by their birth order, or the fact that the youngest has less hair, both of her daughters as dark as Rafael. That isn’t a solid plan. Children need names, identity, and she’s their mother, she should be able to provide them with such things.

The only thing she is sure of is - their last name will be Solano. Even though Raf and her may not be apart, Petra still has his last name and she isn’t eager to revert back to her own, not when all it reminds her of is the past. And besides, Rafael deserves children that have his last name. She’d never judge Jane for choosing to have Mateo be a Villaneuva rather than a Solano, but. Petra’s the one who took Raf’s last sample without thinking, the one who squandered it without his consent, and so, really, it’s only right that the products of that sample have his last name.

She just has to figure out what will go before that.

\---

Days pass, and her daughters still don’t have names. She’s moved into Rafael’s suite, seeing as it's more spacious and baby-prepared than her own, with only an extra cot needed to accommodate her and their daughters. They settled somewhat into a routine, with the assistance from the night nurse she hired gratefully accepted by the end of the second day. Rafael doesn’t protest her decision not to breastfeed, not when she finds herself unable to produce enough milk to feed one of their daughters, let alone both of them. She knows breastfeeding them would be better, especially since they were premature, but she’s physically incapable of doing such a thing.

Besides, it’s 2016. Choosing to bottle feed is a perfectly valid decision, especially when she’s a first time mother of two squalling, hungry babies. Rafael can’t be there all the time, they still have a hotel to run, and as tiny as they are, Petra swears, after an hour or so of holding them both her daughters start to feel as if they weigh a million pounds each.

She pointlessly tries to flick through a baby name book whenever she finds herself granted with a quiet second, the babies asleep and Petra itching for something to occupy herself with. The books don’t help though. Instead, they confuse her, all of these perfectly fine names swirling around in her head until she ends up despising them all. Her daughters will have these names for the rest of their lives – or, at least until they’re able to legally change it – and she doesn’t want to lump them with only an adequate name. They deserve something perfect, because _they’re_ perfect. Even when they’re both crying their eyes out, red-faced and squawking, even when Petra’s completely at a loss as to why they’re crying, sobbing down the phone to Jane and demanding that she help her. They’re the two most perfect things in her life, and they deserve only the best.

Raf, thankfully, doesn’t question her indecision, calmly taking it in stride. They’re still able to tell the babies apart based on their slight physical differences, and have taken to dressing them in separate outfits to make it easier to tell the difference between them at first glance. Still, she knows she can’t keep putting it off. She needs to make a decision, before time gets away from her and they’re suddenly celebrating the twins’ first birthday.

The idea comes to her mid-morning on a Tuesday, Rafael grumbling as he changes out of his shirt, their youngest having spat up on him after her feed. Running a finger across the cheek of their sleeping eldest, Petra murmurs, “You should name one of them.”

Mid shirt change, Rafael arches a brow at her. He buttons up his new shirt, their youngest now happily drifting off to sleep, content after ruining her father’s outfit and making him slightly late for his business lunch. “What?”  

“You should name one of them. You are their father.”

Rafael, mouth slightly agape, comes to sit beside her on the floor. He’s somehow wrongly buttoned the top half of his shirt and Petra unbuttons his mistakes without thinking, shaking her head at him. “It’s not like I’ve got any names picked out. And it’s been days Raf, they _need_ names.” She shrugs. “I need you to help me with this.”

Rafael nods, shirt now properly buttoned, a shade of blue that compliments her eyes. She’s always loved him in blue. “If you’re sure.”

Petra offers him a soft smile. “I’m sure,” she murmurs, fiddling with the rings on her left hand. For some reason, she’s still wearing her wedding rings – the ones from Raf, not Milos. She tries to justify her actions in wearing them by thinking about how expensive they were, the one splurge she let Rafael have, unable to protest their price when she saw how beautiful they were. They are too expensive, too beautiful, to not wear, but still. She probably shouldn’t be wearing there, but Rafael has yet to complain about it.

To her surprise, Rafael takes her hand, lacing her fingers within his. He slings his other arm around her shoulders and Petra falls comfortably against him, suddenly exhausted herself now that their daughters are both finally asleep. He presses a kiss gently against her temple, their linked hands resting on his thigh. “Thank you,” he tells her, and she simply looks up at him in response, the sun streaming through the open curtains.

Her hair is in desperate need of a wash, her boobs are aching despite her decision not to breastfeed, her clothes probably have spit up on them somewhere, but her babies are asleep and so very loved, and Rafael is holding her, looking at her as if she is the only thing in the world that truly matters to him. Nothing could be more perfect than this moment. 

When they send out the invitations for the twins’ first birthday, Petra delights in handwriting them, the novelty of writing out her daughters’ names not quite yet worn off. She excitedly shows Rafael when he comes upstairs for lunch, but he merely laughs and presses a quick kiss to her lips, their daughters clamouring for his attention.

_They’re cute and sweet and so much fun…Anastasia and Isa are turning one!_

**Author's Note:**

> God did I struggle coming up with a second name. I adore Anastasia as a name for their daughter/s, and I'm eagerly anticipating next week's ep to see what they do name them! I'm sure I'll love the names no matter what, this was just an idea I had that wouldn't let go. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
